


Absolutely

by Xie



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-22
Updated: 2008-05-22
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:02:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xie/pseuds/Xie
Summary: Justin is interning at Kinnetik Galleries in NYC when he meets the boss. Written with vamphile.





	Absolutely

  
Author's notes: This story was written with vamphile in response to the "[Challenge in Two Parts](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/qaf_challenges/126095.html) " on InsaneJournal. Our prompt was [this banner](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/qaf_challenges/108389.html).  


* * *

_Written by Xie and Vamphile_

Justin woke up that morning, and stretched lazily. He'd been interning at the gallery for three days, and was starting to think it was going to be easier than he'd thought. The director was nice and really seemed to want him to learn something. The rest of the staff was competent and professional, not that common in the temperamental art world.  
  
He still hadn't met Mr. Kinney, the man who had founded Kinnetik Galleries here in New York and its branches in Los Angeles and London. Cynthia had told Justin that he was out of the country, looking at some artist's work in Southeast Asia or somewhere equally remote and exotic.  
  
Cynthia smiled at Justin when he walked into the gallery's spacious back room. "You're early."  
  
Justin smiled. "I like it here." He nodded at the coffeemaker. "And you have better coffee than Starbucks."  
  
She laughed. "I hope so. It costs $28.00 a pound."  
  
Justin almost choked, but swallowed instead. "Wow."  
  
She nodded sympathetically. "I know. But if we're going to charge six figures for a painting, I suppose the least we can do is buy the good beans."  
  
"Yeah, well, it's not like most people could tell the difference between this and Maxwell House." It was Mr… Schmidt. The CFO. Justin had only met him once, for a minute or two.  
  
But he smiled at Justin. "At least the Art Institute keeps sending us free labor."  
  
Justin gave him a polite smile. "Well, it's a good opportunity for me to get experience in my field, and see the gallery system from the point of view of the gallery owner instead of an artist."  
  
Mr. Schmitt snorted. "Good answer. Do they make you memorize that before you start interning here?"  
  
Justin nodded. "Absolutely."  
  
Cynthia told him to shadow Jason for the day. He dutifully followed him around the gallery, answering questions about the paintings and the artists. Justin listened to everything Jason told him, but he wasn't actually that impressed. Everything was the best quality, highly collectible, but just a little… safe. Even boring.  
  
Even though he didn't say anything, after a while Jason gave him a knowing look. "Let me show you some slides of the next exhibit."  
  
They went into a viewing room on the mezzanine, and Jason picked up the remote control that was sitting on the table. The lights went out, a screen lit up, and Justin was plunged into a series of slides of boiling reds and jagged blacks, suspended overhead on heavy cables, with stark white shapes like tombstones rising up underneath them, irregular as stalagmites on the floor of a cave.  
  
"Do you like that better?" Jason was laughing.  
  
Justin grinned. "I didn't know it showed."  
  
"Kinnetik is about the best." He turned the lights back on. "Sometimes the best isn't the most powerful work, but the most desired. That's what the show we're doing now is about."  
  
Justin went downstairs and stood looking at a painting in the back half of the gallery. It was beautiful, it was brilliantly executed. It had a price tag on it that would have bought a loft in Soho. And it had a "sold" tag on it, too.  
  
"What do you think of that?"  
  
Justin jumped slightly He hadn't realized anyone had come in; usually one of the other staffers greeted the visitors to the gallery. He was only supposed to be observing. He wasn't sure how to answer him, so he tried to be evasive. "I think it's beautiful."  
  
The man raised an eyebrow. "Don’t bullshit me. What do you think?"  
  
"I think it's a little safe." Justin realized the minute he said it that he was going to get fired if anyone heard him. Fortunately, no one was around.  
  
The man threw back his head and laughed. "Do you work here?"  
  
Justin smiled. "I'm an intern."  
  
"Ah. An art student." His voice had just a tinge of mockery in it. Justin decided he'd pushed his luck enough, and ignored it.  
  
He didn't ignore the man, though. He was trying to figure him out. He was holding a pair of sunglasses, and was kind of Bohemian, with a scruffy beard and artfully worn blue jeans, the kind of New Yorker who might be worth millions or barely scraping by in a roach-infested studio apartment.  
  
The man noticed Justin looking at him, and his mouth quirked into a smile as their eyes met.  
  
And Justin felt the bottom of his stomach drop, and his cock twitch, all in the same instant that he lost the ability to breathe.  
  
The man just kept looking at him, and Justin couldn't break his eyes away even though he felt his face starting to flush. The man's eyes dropped down to his crotch, and then back to his face, and he smiled a little more. "Are you off soon?"  
  
Justin wasn't completely sure his voice would work, but he nodded. He was pretty sure he was off now. He was pretty sure even if he wasn't, he'd follow this guy anywhere. Then he shook his head. "Wait. I don't know… what time…"  
  
The man glanced at his watch. "It's just past 6."  
  
Justin cleared his throat. "I'm off."  
  
The man smiled again… a feral smile. "Do you have any plans?"  
  
"No… nothing special."  
  
He nodded, and just for a second his lips folded in. "I can change that."  
  
Justin laughed. "I'm Justin."  
  
"Brian. I'll meet you outside."  
  
Justin went and got his bag and jacket, and when he got out to the sidewalk, Brian lifted his hand and a taxi magically appeared.  
  
His building wasn't far away. They rode up in an elevator that went to only one floor, marked "PH." Justin followed him through a huge steel door, and stopped in surprise.  
  
It was a loft, and it was enormous, and not just by New York standards. Justin's eyes scanned the open space, the marble countertops and imported Italian fixtures and then stopped. The man behind him forgotten for a moment, he stepped closer. The artwork…  
  
"Is that a Rauschenberg?" His work was the first modern art Justin had ever seen, at an exhibit at the Guggenheim when he was just a kid.  
  
Justin heard Brian answer that it was, but the minute he turned around, art, and Justin's ability to comprehend or speak the English language, disappeared. Brian was naked, his arms out to his sides.  
  
Justin stared for a minute, then walked towards him, dropping his bag on the floor, his jacket following. He pulled Brian’s head down for a kiss, feeling his beard scratching at his face, his tongue invading Justin's mouth.  
  
Brian continued to kiss Justin even as he moved them both towards the back of the loft. Justin felt himself being pulled up a few stairs, and stood there, dizzy and panting, while Brian tugged at his sweater and tossed it aside.  
  
He was working on Justin’s pants when he stopped, Justin’s half-naked body leaning against his completely naked one. “I’ve been traveling since the Mesozoic era, I need a shower.”  
  
Justin nodded and followed him into the huge bathroom. He had an impression of stone and glass and metal. He watched Brian's muscled arm adjust the water temperature, and laughed when his long fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled him under the spray.  
  
He was still wearing his pants, but Brian got them off him, and threw them, soaking wet, outside the shower onto the floor.  
  
Brian's mouth seemed to be everywhere at once – on Justin’s jaw and then his shoulder and then his neck. The hot wet feel of the water sluicing over both of them, blending with the hot wet feel of Brian’s tongue, was overwhelming and dizzying. Justin couldn't focus on anything other than the clean lines of Brian’s body as he washed his hair, the shampoo tracing Brian’s muscles in mesmerizing rivulets.  
  
Justin dropped to his knees, unable to help himself, his mouth closing over Brian’s cock, his tongue enjoying the hot weight of it, his lips closing around it, sliding over the shaft. He heard Brian groan, felt his fingers clutching at his hair and angled his head to the side, tasting the salty sweet taste of pre-come as his own hands splayed across Brian’s ass and pulled him closer, taking him deep into his throat.  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
Brian groaned. All he could think about on the interminable trip home was how good a shave and a shower would feel. Now he wondered if a shower without this blond’s mouth around his cock would ever feel complete again. He rinsed his hair for the fourth time, and ran his fingers through Justin’s, holding him but not needing to guide him. When Justin’s hands moved to his ass and his throat closed around him, Brian came.  
  
When he was done, he grunted and pulled Justin up, leaning against the tile wall, unsure if his knees would hold them both. When he turned off the water, he had to kiss him again; Justin’s head was tilted up, his mouth a little open and Brian couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to.  
  
Moments later they were both still damp, and Brian was laying Justin out on the bed, his hands mapping a pattern he fully intended to follow with his mouth. His skin was soft, and warm. Brian moved up between Justin's open legs, licking and kissing his belly and chest, closing his mouth on his nipple.  
  
Brian felt Justin's hands grip his shoulders at the same moment he wrapped his legs around him. Their eyes locked and Brian shifted Justin's legs over his shoulders.  
  
Brian inhaled sharply, letting his fingers stroke the soft skin on the back of Justin’s thighs. He worked a lubed finger inside him. Justin’s reaction was immediate and wanton. His body opened, his mouth, his eyes, his ass, all of him moving with the rhythm of Brian’s finger. He pressed another inside him and Justin moaned, his fists clutching the sheets, his head turned to the side as he twisted his body and then clenched his ass on Brian’s fingers.  
  
He rolled the condom on without ever taking his eyes off of Justin’s flushed skin. He waited a moment, centering himself, taking Justin in, really seeing him, and then he pushed the head of his cock into Justin’s hole. The plan was to move slowly. Justin bucked, his hands pulling at Brian’s arms, pulling him closer, as if having him inside him was only the start, and it was. Brian kissed him then, folding him in half. Justin’s breath whooshed out of his body. Brian’s mouth was there to capture it and feed it back to him.  
  
They kissed, Justin’s fingers pressed into Brian’s biceps, Brian’s hands on either side of Justin’s head. They moved together, their bodies aligned, a perfect fit. And when they came, without either of them touching Justin’s cock, Brian collapsed on top of him, his head buried in Justin’s shoulder. He fleetingly thought about pulling out, rolling off of him, dismissing him, but instead he ran a hand through his still damp hair and licked the salty skin on his neck.  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~~~  
  
Justin woke up to the feel of a hand on his hip. He rolled over, surprising himself with his compliance. Brian’s hands pressed on his thighs. He lifted up, bracing himself for Brian’s entry, his body trembling a little with anticipation and desire. He gasped when it wasn’t Brian’s cock but his tongue that he felt at his hole. Brian’s thumbs spread him wide and his tongue was working some sort of magic that Justin was unable to process as he felt himself open up. The warm wet of the shower was all encompassing, this was something else entirely. Brian’s focus seemed laser sharp on a single goal, and as Justin pressed back against Brian's mouth, they both moaned.  
  
Brian’s tongue was an amazingly agile tool, alternating sharp thrusts with soft licks and long swipes until Justin’s body collapsed under him, a quivering mass of need. He repeated Brian’s name, because at the moment, there was little else he could think of. His hips moved of their own volition, grinding his cock into the sheets, pushing his ass up towards Brian’s tongue.  
  
He was about to come. His movements sped up, but Brian’s stopped. He flipped Justin over and before Justin could do more than make a small sound of protest Brian’s mouth was enveloping his cock. Justin’s hands were on Brian’s shoulders, and he tried to hold still, but his hips continued to thrust up.  
  
Brian’s hands moved over Justin’s chest, but made no move to constrain his hips, and so Justin arched his spine. He felt the back of Brian’s throat against the head of his cock. He opened his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything that would let the feeling last just a little longer, but Brian’s hands on his body, his mouth on his cock, all working together, left him nowhere to hide.  
  
His orgasm ripped through him.  
  
When Brian pulled off, Justin tugged at his arm. Brian cocked an eyebrow and almost laughed, but seemed to think better of it as Justin’s tongue slid against his.  
  
He pushed Brian back then, straddling him, rolling the condom on quickly and riding him. Justin locked his gaze with Brian’s and never dropped it, even as Brian’s hands clenched at Justin’s thighs. Even as Justin’s ass clenched at Brian’s cock. And when Brian came, Justin’s body convulsed. He fell forward, kissing Brian, and finally fell asleep, his head in the crook of Brian’s neck.  
  
~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~  
  
When Brian woke up, Justin was gone. He got up, showered and finally shaved the damn beard. Donning his new gunmetal gray Armani and his Prada wingtips, he headed towards the gallery.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Justin was helping the delivery guy when Brian breezed in. He almost dropped the parcel. Brian smirked and tilted his head, motioning for Justin to join him in his office.  
  
Justin followed.  
  
Brian sat behind his desk. Justin stood, package still in hand.  
  
“You might want to put that down, it’s worth more than you make a year.”  
  
“I’m an intern, I don’t make _anything_ a year.”  
  
Brian just stared and Justin put the package down on the coffee table and took a seat across from Brian’s desk. “You’re Brian Kinney.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You own this gallery.”  
  
“I know that, too. You do know that I’m going to have to let you go.”  
  
“On what basis?”  
  
“Sleeping with a customer is bad business practice.”  
  
“Hmmm, firing me for sleeping with the boss… if only there were some sort of law against that.”  
  
Brian rolled his lip into his mouth, not sure if he wanted to laugh or throttle the cocky blond. “I’m sorry, you’re just not going to work out.”  
  
Justin looked concerned. “I’m sorry, I had no idea that our past activities were such an issue for you.”  
  
“You’re telling me I have issues?”  
  
Justin shrugged. “It’s been an honor to work under you, sir.”  
  
Brian pinched the bridge of his nose and shifted in his chair. “Fine, you can stay." He glared at Justin. "But last night, that was a one time thing. Understood?”  
  
Justin gave a very small smile, and blinked. Slowly. "Absolutely."  
  
**_Three Months Later._**  
  
Brian lay on his back in bed, staring at the distant ceiling of his flawlessly designed and decorated loft. Justin was almost asleep next to him, his body flushed and boneless after hours of amazing sex.  
  
Brian leaned up on his elbow, and glared at the blond. "I mean it. This was absolutely the last time."  
  
Justin opened one eye, blinked, and smiled sleepily. "Absolutely," he agreed.  
  
**The End.**


End file.
